your god conforms to carnivorism
by bloodbuzz
Summary: One of the boys was taught "Happily Ever After" and the other was taught "The End." Go on, guess which boy is which. I dare you. You've got money riding on this, after all.


**attn | **triggers & notes located at end of fic.

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your god conforms to carnivorism

_i've been walking on a tightrope, falling  
and i've been looking for a life boat for you  
i've been looking for a light left in your eye _  
— "life boat" by early morning rebel  
.

_1 _

There are two boys — men, fellas, whichever banal term you prefer; I'll stick with boys — sitting on a bench in what had once been known as a park. Now, they sit in the presence of nothing but the moon and a taco stand closed six days out of seven. The two boys (men, or whatever) are sitting side-by-side, thighs barely grazing each other, facing the woodchip-covered spot where the skeleton of a rusted swing set remains. Neither is making noise save the measured shallow breaths they both inhale, exhale — the gesture says, _I'm alive, I'm alive, I'm alive. I'm here with you and I'm still breathing, my heart is still beating. It still beats for you._

_2_

The moon bids a sorrowful farewell to the sky and the sun greets its daytime kingdom with the mightiest of roars. The two boys, fellas, whatever, are still sitting there. They're still sharing breaths. It's approaching noon when the spell is finally broken, when the boy on the left reaches into his pocket to silence the shrill _ring! ring! ring! _radiating from the burner phone he picked up last week. He presses one button and tosses the cheap plastic to his side. The shattered peace lasts for mere moments before the _ring! ring! ring! _is back. The boy grabs it with a groan, a defeated sound and presses a different button this time, brings the speaker to meet his ear. The other boy says nothing. Does nothing.

_3_

One of the boys has a dried bloodstain on his heather gray tee shirt. The other is sporting a leather jacket — surprise, surprise, except I'm not surprised at all. Color me surprised, it's a lovely purple shade this time of year. One of the boys is twenty-three years old and learning to come out of his shell. The other is seventeen and just growing his. One of the boys was taught "Happily Ever After" and the other was taught "The End." Go on, guess which boy is which. I dare you. You've got money riding on this, after all.

_4_

There are two boys on a park bench and the moon is illuminating every one of their features. There is a universe between them and there is nothing at all. The second boy looks right, looks up, looks down, looks forward. Does not look left. Does not look at the first boy. Neither of the boys says anything, neither wants to end the charm that is suspended in the park on this very night. So they sit there, on a dirty park bench with a dead woman's name engraved on a gold plate. They sit in silence and the world follows suit.

This is not the beginning of their story. Come on, darling, you know me better than that.

_5_

Let's call one of the boys Derek. Let's call the other boy Stiles. I won't tell you which is which, though — I'm still waiting on you to place your bet. So, there's a Derek and there's a Stiles and somehow they end up on a bench in the middle of a deserted park. Are you on the edge of your, dearest? Are you fervently awaiting the words I'm fumbling to say, to write? Well, be patient, sweetheart. I'm getting to the point.

_6_

There's a boy, and there's a boy, and there's a call in the middle of the night. Neither of our boys answers, darling, neither of them answers. There is a boy, and there is a boy, and there is a lot of blood and an awful stench that only shows its head when there's a soul leaving a body. The first boy, the one in the tee shirt, is on the floor and he's crying. There is a boy, and there is another boy — not one of ours, rest assured. There is a boy and he is bleeding, dying, and the wound reeks of betrayal and the blood flowing freely from it. The boy has dark hair and almost-black eyes that are fading, fading, fading —

Back to our boys, dear — there is a boy and there is his boy and there is death among them. It's black and seeping, consuming, and they have to get out of there.

_7_

So, they walk. They walk until the sun rises and they keep walking until after it's set. The second boy makes a phone call, says seven words — _It's happened, we're leaving, deal with it —_ so callously that the first is drawn back, in shock through his grief. But then the boy looks at him and there are the signs of tears in his eyes. The first boy starts crying again.

They keep walking. Jump to them sitting on a park bench next to a low-on-business taco stand.

This isn't the start of their story either, sweetheart. I'm sorry I lied to you. I'm working on it.

_8_

There is a journey in the books, an _adventure _among the tallest trees, as our first boy would say. There is a dropped inhaler and a missed moment, an accidental deviation of time and events. This is where our story _truly _begins, my dear reader, this is where it begins and this is where it ends, really. It's a cold day in the forest and our boy has not met his boy, our second boy yet, but time is a string of events and this is the day he pulled at the fraying string.

This is the day time started unraveling. Aren't you glad you're here to witness it?

_9_

So, we have a boy and we have another boy. We have their names but we do not have their faces. The time rolls and the lives flash away and the two boys stay, our two boys stay but they're never safe. They're always running, the monsters always right behind them with their fangs and claws. Their ankles are never going to be the same, not with all the rotten scars they're hiding.

_10_

_I've always heard to destroy what destroys you. _It's our second boy saying this and his eyes are hooded, glassy. We're back on the park bench now, darling, try to keep up. _And I've been trying to, I have, I've been trying for you, but if it's true — why am I still here? Why is he — _The spell is broken and the diamond is cracked. What good are fractured promises and empty lies?

They go back to their silence, but it's no use. The charm is broken and the sun is rising on the new day. They're two days out and seventy missed calls from the incident, from the dark and bloody night, and they've accomplished nothing but sitting in a park. _You always know what to say, sweetheart._

_11_

The blood is crusted on one of our boy's skin and it's itching. He's sitting on a park bench with his best friend's blood dried on his chest and he hasn't really stopped crying yet, hasn't convinced himself this isn't all just a nightmare. He keeps looking at the signs around the park and praying he can't read them, but he still sees the letters, plain and clear, _No running barefoot. No glass. No unaccompanied children. _He's tried and he's still trying to make his brain blur the images but he can read. He can read and the text messages still say _Scott's mom is losing it. Please call her. She needs you right now._

He turns off his phone.

_12_

In the end, they go back. They go back with their heads low and their chests caved in; the whole town reeks of grief, death, and shame. There's a tribute to their hero on every street and the blood — long washed off but refusing to _fade — _tingles against his skin and he wants to unzip it, crawl out of it and leave the earth in his bodily form. He wants that, and he's trying to formulate how to do that, when he feels the pain peal across his face. He's snapped back to reality and his best friend's mom is standing across from him. She's crying and holding her hand, looking at him like he's made of betrayal. His boy says nothing.

_13_

Our two boys visit his grave at midnight. It's a full moon; it seems fitting. The moon reflects off his headstone and his name glints in the night. One of the boys is crying. The other is crying, too, but not for entirely the same reason. They stay there for hours, until the sun starts to rise in the east. It is then that they leave the place of last rites and walk a few streets over to a children's park.

They sit on a bench in the corner. They don't say anything, they just touch wherever is possible, a silent reminder that they're still alive, that they're still sharing breaths. The sun starts its journey across the sky. A child runs past.

The day breaks.

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**triggers | **major character death, though very vague. mentions of blood and grief, i guess. no fourth wall. not sure if that's a trigger but it's in this fic.

**disclaimer |** i don't own teen wolf. also, this was sort of based off siken's general writing style.

**notes | **title credit to my better half, paige. thanks to musa & yew for their edits. this fic is for zoey for the gift-giving extravaganza 2014. hope you like it! please (don't favor if you don't) review. (: this takes place in an unmentioned place in the future. not really canon-compliant.


End file.
